


Artemis

by Ardhoniel



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts AU, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Newt Scamander is a Sweetheart, Newt Wasn't Expelled, Slow Burn, magical tea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-08-28 08:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16719480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardhoniel/pseuds/Ardhoniel
Summary: Autumn had, as she so fondly tended to do, fallen with a regal ease upon the grounds of Hogwarts. The air had turned bitingly crisp as the nights grew longer, auburn-hued leaves waltzing from branch to earth as the first signs of snowfall began to make themselves known. The grounds of the ancient castle had always been stunningly beautiful, but in such a dappled light and surrounded by such a flurry of colour, it almost seemed too surreal to be tangible.She took down the stairs as quickly as she dared, teal hair flying out behind her until she came to a skidding halt beside the boy. She recognised him, of course she did. Newton Scamander - the quiet Hufflepuff with whom she had been sharing classes with for nearly five years now.





	1. the owlery

Autumn had, as she so fondly tended to do, fallen with a regal ease upon the grounds of Hogwarts. The air had turned bitingly crisp as the nights grew longer, auburn-hued leaves waltzing from branch to earth as the first signs of snowfall began to make themselves known. The grounds of the ancient castle had always been stunningly beautiful, but in such a dappled light and surrounded by such a flurry of colour, it almost seemed too surreal to be tangible. A plethora of intricately carved Jack-o-Lanterns and assorted All Hallows Eve decorations only added to the staggering intangibility, the objects sitting in perfect harmony with their counterparts and providing a breathtaking ambience.

Figures in cloaks of a deep navy rushed across the festive grounds in clusters, all bundled warmly in layers of scarves and mittens and woolly hats. Prominent hues of red, blue, yellow and green stood out among many articles of clothing, worn proudly by their owners in amongst further layers of uniform and warmth. It was the first weekend of October, and as such there was a gathering of slightly windswept, but nevertheless eager-looking students in the courtyard. The quiet excitement thrummed throughout the entire assembly like keen static, murmurs of hot butterbeers and spiced pastries exchanged avidly between huddles of cloaks.

A small ways away from the teeming crowd, a girl draped in the same inky-blue cloak was carefully making her way up the winding stone stairs of the Owlery, a chunky-knit scarlet scarf, embroidered with golden threads wrapped cozily around her neck. The hood of her cloak was pulled up around her head in a feeble attempt to shield her from the chill of the snowflakes that were beginning to nip at her rosy cheeks, one hand tracing the cool stone of the circular building for balance while the other kept the rather useless hood in place. She would much rather be going to Hogsmeade with the rest of her friends as they had so mercilessly pleaded her to last night, but her potions essay wasn't going to write itself. She needed to study, and the best time to do that was when half the castle was on an outing.

Every couple of stairs up, the girl's foot would slip out from beneath her, resulting in a involuntary gasp and an internal reprimand towards whoever had designed a circular building with the stone steps on the outside, with no railing. The stairway was always treacherously icy as the cold set in each year, and a heating charm to melt the slippery surface would never do it good for long.

Nevertheless, she pressed on with her journey, and let out a sigh of relief as she finally reached the top step. She ducked through the door frame and pulled her hood down, unravelling the scarf to a more comfortable degree and sliding her hands into her pockets. Her face - now unshrouded - was bitten pink from the cold, her near-white skin smattered lightly with freckles that intermingled with the unintentional flush of her cheeks. Her hair was dark and seemingly pin-curled, at first appearing to be almost a black, but with closer inspection was a discernibly deep teal shade. Her eyebrows mirrored this same colour, neatly framing a bright viridescent gaze surrounded by a pair of modest, thick-rimmed glasses.

Said gaze flicked upwards as she stepped into the centre of the incredibly tall room, eyes scanning the Owlery in childlike awe as she let out a low, melodic whistle. At the sound, a white and brown mass swooped down from one of the many cubby-holes, the forest-green eyes following the figure with a grin as it skittered down on a nearby perch.

"Hey, Pidge," The girl murmured, stepping towards the perch and reaching an outstretched, friendly palm towards the barn owl. It was rather small and mostly white, with light brown feathers surrounding its face and wingspan. The owl, Pidge, leaned into the offered palm zealously, cooing and hooting excitedly to the teal-haired girl in greeting. The girl chuckled and pulled her free hand from her pocket, offering the bird an Owl Treat and a scratch behind the ear before digging into her pocket once again, procuring a small, tan envelope with neat, swooping calligraphy marking the front.

 

Rather engrossed by the exchange between herself and her owl, the girl in the crimson scarf barely to noticed the quiet arrival of a new visitor to the Owlery. A boy around her age, wearing the same ink-blue robes, but instead of a scarlet scarf around his shoulders, he wore a slimmer, more modest yellow rendition, interlaced with sections of a light grey. His hair was a strawberry blonde disarray of snowflakes and curls, and his eyes a piercing blue.

Not intending to intrude on the girl's interaction with her owl, the boy simply reached his arm out towards one of the owls nearby and it glided down to greet him, resting on his arm and chirruping happily. He smiled crookedly at the animal in return, as he reached inside of his robes and procured a slightly less impressive letter, marked with a scrawling hand and wrapped carefully with twine. He handed it to the handsome bird, who plucked it into its beak with ease and tilted its head in question;

"Take it to my Mother, would you? She'll have food waiting for you when you arrive, I'm sure you remember the way." The boy murmured quietly in answer to to the animal's unspoken question. It cooed at him once more in understanding before hopping off of his arm, gliding towards the nearest exit and taking off into the thickening snowfall.

He turned on his heel watched the magnificent bird depart, the wonder in his eyes eventually fading as the unnerving sensation of being watched crept up and tingled at the top of his spine. Resisting the urge to glance behind himself, the boy simply reached up and pulled his cloak hood over his head, shrouding himself in the fabric once more before striding quickly out of the circular room. The tingling sensation followed him as he departed.

He took the winding staircase at less of a pace, all too familiar with the slick surface beneath his feet and his general lack of coordination. Today was as normal a day as any other; Hogsmeade trips were never quite something that fully appealed to the boy, as he would much rather spend his time quietly in the common room, filling his notebook with pages of notes, observations, and drawings, or sitting in the library reading. He had seen a rather ornate looking leather-bound book in one of the dustier isles the last time he had visited, but had been in too much of a rush at the time to pick it up. Smiling to himself at the thought of being able to settle down with the dusty old tome beside the fireplace, he picked up his pace down the spiralling stairs.

Almost as soon as his movements sped up, however, a dreadfully high-pitched squeak came from below him. His right foot, obviously unaccustomed to this new pace, had slipped out from beneath him and screeched in protest against the ice, swinging him backwards at an alarmingly fast rate. He scrambled in a panic as he lost his footing, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and accepting his fate, bracing himself for the impact of the fall...


	2. arresto momentum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! thank you so so SO much for 100 reads and 11 kudos in the first 4 days of me posting, i appreciate it so much! :)  
> i hope you enjoy chapter 2! xo

“ _Arresto Momentum!_ ” A voice cried out suddenly, causing the boys fall to come to a halt, but only a moment too late… A resounding cracking noise emanated from where he now half-hovered, half-lay against the stairwell. The caster of the spell cringed at the noise, lowering her wand slowly to lay him down before handing her owl the letter from her free hand, calling out, “You know where to go!” as she all but ran out of the circular room. The owl cooed loudly in response, swooping out of the room after her and taking to the skies.

She rushed down the stairs as quickly as she dared, teal hair (which now appeared to be slightly more green in colour) flying out behind her until she came to a skidding halt beside the boy. She recognised him; of course she did. Newton Scamander - the unbelievably quiet Hufflepuff with whom she had been sharing classes with for nearly five years now.

“Newt! Newt, can you hear me?!” The girl called to him as she fell to her knees and tapped the side of his face, her eyes wide with a sudden onslaught of fear as he remained unresponsive to both her touch and her call. She dropped her wand beside her and cradled the back of his head, pulling him away from the harsh edge his skull had collided with and cringing at the warm substance that instantly covered her hands. She used her free hand to place two fingers just beneath his jaw and shuffled closer to put her ear to his mouth, going utterly silent before releasing a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. He had a pulse. He was breathing.

“Oh Merlin... Okay, okay, okay--” The girl whispered to herself in an unfathomable panic, keeping Newt’s head elevated as she grabbed her wand once more, shakily casting a levitation charm on him before murmuring, “ _Glisseo_!” the stairs beneath the two melting together with a klaxon-eque wail and forming a smooth, stone slide. The girl practically flew down the newly formed surface, the ice below her only adding to the speed, her wand held tightly in her right hand as she directed Newt’s now-suspended body to meet her at the foot of the stairwell.

As she reached the bottom of the staircase-slide she hit the ground running, haphazardly throwing a counter-charm behind her to return the slide to a staircase as she grabbed Newt’s robe sleeve and guided his levitating body along beside her. She would have been much too weak to carry him, so she was thankful that the castle was half-deserted as she ran the two of them towards the Hospital Wing. The few people she did run past watched her curiously, a few even calling her name out as she ran by, but none received a reply or a second glance. She ran as fast as her legs would take her until they finally reached the grand double doors, throwing them open rather exuberantly and causing Madame Pomfrey to near-enough jump out of her skin.

“Merlin’s beard, Miss Underwood!” The older woman gasped, her hand flying to her heart from the sudden shock. She peered over her glasses at the teal-haired girl scornfully before directing her attention towards the floating boy beside her, instantly turning on her heel and walking towards them, “What’s the poor boy done now?”

“He slipped and fell on the staircase at the Owlery… I- I tried to catch him as soon as I realised, but...” The girl trailed off shakenly, guiding his body towards the bed the matron ushered them towards as she spoke, “I think he hit his head pretty hard on the edge of a stair, he’s bleeding.”

“Well, you did the right thing bringing him straight to me, dear.” Pomfrey reassured her, offering the girl a kind smile before beginning to take a look over Newt, “The head injury I can take care of in no time, but the concussion…” The older woman tittered to herself, shifting the boy’s eyelids and checking his pupil dilation, “I’m afraid he might be here for the rest of the weekend, at the very least.”

The girl nodded and let out a steadying breath, watching the older woman draw her wand and begin to work over him. “He’ll be alright, won’t he?”

“Don’t be silly, Ramona. I’ve cured people of ailments that practically had them on the brink of death… A bump to the head will be taken care of in no time.” The woman glanced up to the girl once more, almost fondly, a reassuring smile gracing her features, “You have nothing to worry about, my love. You did everything you could. Now; go on. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

The girl returned the smile half-heartedly, nodding in thanks to the matron before glancing back down to Newt. She looked over him for just a moment before briskly turning and walking out of the Hospital Wing, an oddly heavy feeling brimming in her chest as she wended her way back to her common room.

 

* * *

 

The rest of Ramona’s day passed slowly, her potions essay set in front of her as she sat beside the fire, but her eyes set to look anywhere but at the half-written parchment. She couldn’t quite shake the odd flush of guilt and upset she felt in her chest, or quite understand why it was there in the first place. She had obviously heard the screech of Newt’s shoe protesting against the ice as he fell, but if she was honest with herself, it wasn’t the noise that alerted her to him being in trouble… it was more so a… feeling? Like somebody had shouted out in a panic, but only she could hear it, in some deep dark corner at the back of her mind. Like suddenly, the feelings that overwhelmed her in that moment and forced her to pull her wand, and in the minutes beyond that she spent all but sprinting to the hospital wing, were not entirely her own.

She sighed to herself and shook her head vehemently as if to clear the thoughts; she was being ridiculous, and sounded downright insane, even to herself. She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration and utter bewilderment, the teal shade slowly shifting to a deep plum colour as the feeling in her chest almost seemed to deepen, twisting down and knotting at the pit of her stomach sickeningly. She cast her eyes towards the latticed window once more in a meagre attempt to distract herself from the sensation, sighing deeply and slumping back into the chair.

The fire flickering in the hearth crackled sympathetically.


	3. capacious extremis

As the day drew to a dwindling close and the sky slowly drew from grey to black, Ramona sat alone in her dorm, sitting cross-legged on her bed with the four-post curtains drawn. She had eventually quelled her mind enough to focus on potions for an hour or two earlier on in the day, but had ultimately resigned herself to her dormitory in the hopes of having a quiet evening. The heavy feeling in her chest had only seemed to curl tighter within her ribcage as the day went on, and left her seeking solitude over anything else.

The Hogsmeade-goers would be returning to the castle soon enough; among them would be her fellow Quidditch teammates... if their last Hogsmeade trip was anything to go by, they would be arriving back to the common room a little more than merry, with some extra Firewhiskey and Dark Butterbeer to see them through the night. As fun as it was to have a pre-practise party and get the team spirit going, going to practise the next morning with a chronic hangover that even a headache charm couldn’t touch was less than amusing.

Speaking of charms, she had been sat on her bed working on some for a while now in a feeble attempt to ignore the unshiftable feeling in her chest. She was already quite far ahead on their classwork for charms, and as such, spent a lot of her time practising more complex spells outside of the school’s syllabus. The spell she had used earlier that day to turn the Owlery staircase into a slide, for example, was a charm she had found in a rather dusty, unassuming dog-eared book from the middle ages, hidden away at the back of the library. She had laid the very same book in front of her once more, reading it by wandlight as she flipped through the weathered pages.

“ _Anti-Theft Charm, Weather-Modifying Charm, Bewitched Sleep Charm, Locomotion Charm…_ ” She muttered certain headers aloud as she paged through the book, pushing her glasses up her nose as she reached a page that peaked her interest, leaning in to read it.

“ _Undetectable Extension Charm…_ Capacious Extremis _. A charm that extends the internal dimensions of a target object without affecting the external dimensions. The charm also magically disguises itself so that no one but the caster (and those the caster confides about the charm in) can realise that the spell has been cast over the object, even if they are experiencing it._ ”

She glanced across the rest of the page quite eagerly, taking note of the wand movement and mimicking it subconsciously. She drew back one of her bedpost curtains and opened her mahogany bedside cabinet, racking her brain for any kind of container she had within it before murmuring, “ _Accio teapot_.” A handsomely silver, Queen Anne style teapot came whizzing out of the cabinet and flew into the witch’s waiting hand, making a slight clanging noise as it connected with her palm. The pot had never quite been big enough to make the entire dormitory a cup of tea with, so perhaps this was as good a thing as any to try it on.

She closed the drawer and shuffled back onto her bed excitedly, drawing the curtain again before setting the teapot down in front of her. She glanced over the wand movement in the old book once more before raising her wand, completing the movement with ease as she murmured, “ _Capacious extremis_.” A small zinging sound came from the belly of the pot, and Ramona glanced down into it excitedly, shining her wand’s light into the opening and peering inside. The change was definitely smaller than expected, but there was a noticeable difference to the interior of the silver pot for sure. The curved lines of the stylized vessel seemed to be almost elongated, and the natural depth of the pot certainly wouldn’t allow space for almost all of her 13 ¾ inch wand to fit into its innards. It had probably about doubled the interior dimensions, which was definitely a better outcome than she had been expecting from using the spell.

She grinned in wonder at the secretly enlarged teapot before noting the sound of footsteps approaching from the spiral staircase to the dormitory. She set the teapot down and picked up the book again, thumbing through it nonchalantly as the footfalls hit the landing. After a moment of silence, a dainty hand curled around the bed’s curtain, pulling it open a smidge to reveal a floating pair of curious hazel eyes. Ramona glanced up and met the eyes with a raised brow and a smile, chuckling, “Hi, Frankie.”

Bright red brows wiggled at the greeting. The air now smelled rather potently of Firewhisky and Butterbeer. “Are you going to come have fun with us tonight, or are you still being boring?”

“Still boring as ever, Frankie. I’m doing some charms work right now.” Ramona replied, gesturing towards the book in her hands and the teapot behind it. The brown eyes glanced down at the aforementioned book and pot, ginger brows furrowing in disappointment, “How about you go have a drink for me with the others, and I’ll make you all a steaming mug of tea to sort you out in the morning?”

One of the furrowed brows raised in curiosity, “Your Thistlespark brew?”

Ramona nodded solemnly, “My Thistlespark brew. The one with the new herbs and the Maple Sap you love.”

The hazel eyes instantly lit up once more, almost dancing in the dim light, “Deal! We missed you today, Mona. Wasn’t the same out there without you.”

The teal-hair girl chuckled, feeling a pang of guilt for not joining her teammates at all during the day or night, “I missed you guys too, Frank-o... I’ll see you all in the morning, okay?”

“Bright and early,” The hazel eyes chimed, giving the girl a quick wink before drawing the curtain closed once more. Ramona listened bittersweetly to the sound of Frankie skipping back down the spiral staircase, chuckling to herself as she heard a faint cry of, “She’s still boring! But she missed us too!” She turned back to her book and continued thumbing through the pages, desperately trying to ignore the uncomfortably curling tendrils that had flared up in her chest once more.


	4. thistlespark

The following morning drew in with a flurry of fresh snow a fierce wind, which threw the snowflakes about the grounds in a violent, spiralling dance. Ramona was the first to wake in the dormitory, drawing her curtains with a groggy flick of her wand (which had somehow wound up in her hand, beneath her pillow) and stepping out of bed with a stretch and a groan. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and blinked into the dim light of the circular room, grabbing her glasses from her nightstand and pushing them haphazardly up onto the bridge of her nose. She then glanced back down to her cabinet, eyeing the silver teapot that sat atop it with a grin.

Picking it up, she popped the lid open and inspected its interior in the small ribbons of natural light from the window, her grin growing as she confirmed once more that the extension charm had definitely worked. She raised her wand to the brim of the pot and whispered, “Aguamenti,” filling it near enough to the top. She then reached over to a decently sized wooden box sitting upon the windowsill, hinging it open and grabbing one of the vials resting within it marked ‘Thistlespark’. She popped the cork stopper off and carefully tipped some of the herbs and tea leaves within it into the teapot, watching them swirl amongst the water with a contented smile.

Thistlespark was the perfect tea to have after a night of merriment, as the magical properties derived from its contents were perfectly matched to one’s needs the following morning. The Sparklit Berries added a bright, spicy kick to the tea, which was wonderful at replenishing one’s energy, while the almost citrusy sprinkling of Pippinbell Thistles contained healing properties to soothe the worst of a headache, and heal any injuries from the previous night’s escapades. There was also a touch of Mirk Root and a smattering of Firesnap Petals in the blend, to respectively provide a sense of mental clarity, and greatly boost morale. Ramona had tweaked and perfected the her own blend of the tea after several terrible mornings of practise after nights of drinking, much to the thankfulness of their team captain, Oliver Potts. The same way that magical herbs lended themselves to make potent potions, they also lended themselves to make spectacularly mellow teas.

She stirred the leaves and herbs into the water with a wave of her wand before casting a simple heating charm upon the teapot, warming the water to the perfect temperature as she quietly gathered together a set of various mugs from around the room. She laid them out in a neat line on the windowsill and levitated the teapot over to them, filling each mug as the steam from within rose up and clouded the latticed window pane. She then procured an elegant glass bottle marked ‘Maple Sap’ from the wooden box, removing its stopper and topping the mugs off the rest of the way with the auburn liquid. The sap, while being perfectly delicious and sweet, was also charmed with a gorgeous little spell that made anything it was added into sparkle and effervesce, as though filled with a smattering of ground diamonds.

She finally stirred each glimmering mug with a wave of her wand before making her rounds, waking each girl up with a gentle shake and a piping hot mug of tea. They grumbled and groaned at being woken, but soon found themselves sitting up and curling gratefully around the warm mugs that were patiently waiting for them, levitating within arms reach towards the end of their beds. Ramona stepped back to the window and picked up her own hovering mug, setting away her teapot with a wave of her wand as she perched herself on the edge of the sill.

“Long night last night?” She chuckled, bringing the brim of her mug to her mouth taking a deep inhale of its furling steam. It smelled homely and spicy, like cinnamon and nutmeg twirling amongst a squeeze of citrus and pine. She sighed contentedly and took a long sip, feeling the tea’s invigorating effects as soon as it touched her tongue.

“Long isn’t even the word. Frankie somehow convinced that new barmaid at the Hog’s Head that she was 18, and she let her buy so many rounds of Firewhisky and Giggle Water…” A rather pale girl with a slick of poker-straight, coal black hair groaned, rubbing her eyes with her free hand as she took a sip of her tea, “I reckon she fancied her, to be honest. She started fluttering her eyelashes and giggling every time Frankie went back up for another round.” The other girls smirked widely behind their mugs as the dark-haired girl spoke, chuckling and nodding in agreement.

“She did not!” Frankie protested loudly, pouting as she lowered her mug to her lap in defiance. Her hair was a shock of fiery red corkscrew curls, and her slightly less pallid face was smattered in a generous sprinkling of freckles. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose had also turned a rosy shade of red at the accusation, matching her hair rather nicely.

“Oh come on, Franks. We all know that not every witch is after a wizard, if you catch my drift.” a blonde girl named Suzie winked dryly, smirking into her tea as she took a long chug from her mug. The girls in the room snickered and nodded agreeably towards Frankie, who set down her tea and swiftly hid her (now even even redder) face deep into her pillows, and let out a muffled cry of “Shut up!”.

“You know it’s true!” The dark-haired girl, Alice Colt, crooned to her, snickering as the shock of curls shook vehemently in denial and delved deeper into the pillows with a grumble.

 

* * *

 

The group of girls continued to chatter and bicker as they finished their tea and eventually got changed into their Quidditch robes, all the unsavoury side effects of their merry night quelled soon enough by the power of Ramona’s feisty tea. They grabbed everything they would need for practise before dashing down the common room stairs after about 20 minutes or so, laughing loudly as they recounted stories of the night before. Ramona smiled and chuckled along as they wended their way down to the Great Hall, hopping down the last step of the staircase as her gaze was drawn towards the Hospital Wing. As she glanced at the entrance, the sinking feeling in her chest began to well up once more, causing the girl to exhale deeply and bring a hand flying up to her heart.

“Mona, you alight?” Alice asked worriedly, seeing the girl’s sudden movement out of the corner of her eye.

Ramona dropped her hand from her chest at once, snapping her gaze back to her group of friends; most of whom were now looking on at her with the same worried gaze, “Sorry! Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine!” She reassured them a little too quickly, her cheeks flushing pink at the awfulness of the bluff. The group of girls frowned at the response, but decided not to pry as they stepped into the Great Hall, making a beeline for the rest of the team who were already sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Ramona spent the majority of their breakfast internally debating telling her friends about the feeling she couldn’t seem to fully shake, and about what had happened while they were at Hogsmeade that had seemed to trigger it. On the one hand, she supposed that maybe they would know what was going on, and help her figure things out... but on the other, she sounded absolutely insane when she described it all - even to herself. She figured that maybe this was something she shouldn’t go sharing... with her luck, she would probably end up bumbling around St. Mungo’s psych ward for the foreseeable future if she did.

She continued to earn concerned glances from the rest of her teammates throughout the meal, which she attempted to quell by throwing them a half-smile that didn’t quite seem to reach her deep green eyes. She shuffled her food around her plate as she contemplated, her gaze a million miles away as her chest twisted and curled in on itself mercilessly.

Soon enough they had all finished their breakfasts and were out of the castle’s doors, sitting below the stands of the Quidditch Pitch and listening to the wind howling through the rafters. Oliver stood in front of them all, gesturing towards a large, scruffy chalkboard which had definitely seen better days. A diagram that made a vague amount of sense was being sketched onto it by a rather enthusiastic piece of levitating chalk, dancing around the surface as he spoke. She paid little attention to his words; the drills and tactics didn’t particularly apply to her as the team’s seeker anyway, and her mind was still several million miles away.

She figured that once they returned to the castle after practise, she would head over to the Hospital Wing in the hopes of finding some answers - Madame Pomfrey had gotten to know her rather well over her past few years of grim Quidditch-related injuries, and from that one time a Slytherin girl had thrown her a nasty horn-growing hex during duelling club, which had landed her in a hospital bed for over a week. The Matron didn’t seem to mind her visiting the wing as much as she minded most of the rest of the student body visiting, which was something she would definitely be taking advantage of later that day. If this debilitating sensation in her chest had started when Newt had taken such a nasty fall, perhaps she would find some answers by visiting him.

“Right, out you go then,” She heard Oliver call out through her reverie, shaking her head and blinking harshly to bring herself back to the present. She stood up with the rest of the team and trudged out into the blustery, snow-covered pitch, her boots caked in the white substance and her skin thoroughly bitten by the cold before she had even reached the sidelines. She threw her leg over her broom and kicked off with a practised ease, feeling the Bludgers go hurtling past her as the rest of the team kicked off into the air, the Snitch following soon after. She coaxed her broom to rise higher into the snowstorm as she saw the gold ball glint and whiz away towards the clouds, letting out a deep, steadying breath as she prepared for a rather tedious (and chilly) couple of hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there! the magical tea section of this chapter was greatly inspired by the ASMR video 'Mrs. Pippetwhistle’s Mossdrop Tea Shop' by Goodnight Moon, which i definitely recommend checking out! i also decided to try doing a longer chapter this time as i was often splitting longer sections of the story apart in order to upload them sooner - let me know what you prefer best! thanks again for all of the love xo


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